Relax!
by Liete
Summary: -US/UK- 'He'd just work himself into further stress and tension until it would be possible to snap him in half with a mere touch if America didn't intervene, and intervene quickly.'


**Relax!  
**

**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters portrayed.**

**A/N: A kind anon on Formspring pointed out all the stories I have yet to post here on , so this is the first of a few stories I'll be posting over the next few days.  
**

**

* * *

**

"Are you going to leave me alone or not, America?" England snapped and threw what was probably an expensive paperweight at America's head. When it missed its target, America ducking just in time, and smashed into the far wall where it left a mark, England clutched at his forehead with one hand and bent back over his desk. "Unlike you, some of us are actually _responsible_ and do the work that is required of us."

"I work, too, ya know," America mumbled quietly with a childish pout on his face. He slumped into one of England's chairs and fiddled with the discarded paperweight while he watched his boyfriend scratch at a stack of papers with a unnecessarily old fashioned quill-like pen. England's perpetual scowl seemed to have deepened tenfold and, despite his general refusal to read the atmosphere, even America couldn't deny that the tension in the air between them was so thick it could be cut with a knife.

His well thought out and amazing plan of surprising England with an spontaneous visit had backfired spectacularly thanks to England's insistence on working instead of lavishing attention on his awesome boyfriend. Sitting there in England's study, however, with England looking fit to kill, America couldn't help but think that he had been lucky he hadn't had the door slammed in his face instead of being begrudgingly invited inside.

America perked up when England moved, but the island nation simply stretched, his massive eyebrows furrowing in pain as he did so. He then shifted uncomfortably in his seat and scowled even further as he uttered a string of curses under his breath and continued to scratch furiously at his paperwork. America slumped back into the chair and tossed the paperweight between his hands for awhile and then abruptly stopped. He lifted his head to stare curiously at the older nation, realization dawning over him as he did so.

Who knew how long England had been working? Who knew how long he'd _continue_ working? He'd just work himself into further stress and tension until it would be possible to snap him in half with a mere touch if America didn't intervene, and intervene quickly. It was his duty as a hero and as England's lover to save him from such a fate.

America grinned and placed the paperweight on a nearby table, then stood up and marched behind England's chair. England growled and turned to glare menacingly up at America.

"America, if you don't leave me alone this instant, I swear I'll-ow ow, what the hell?" England gasped and dropped the quill as America clutched at his shoulders and started kneading them with firm strokes.

"Just doing my duty like any self respecting hero would! Relax, all right?" America chirped cheerfully in reply and continued to assault England's shoulders.

"I don't need-ow, damn!" England paused to hiss in pain. "Stop this at-"

America chuckled at England's incoherency, then furrowed his brow in concern as he worked at a particularly stubborn knot in England's shoulders. "God _damn_, you're tense! No wonder you're acting so pissy!"

"You sodding-_fuck_." England squeezed his eyes shut and leaned back slightly as America meticulously worked the tension away.

America mentally kicked himself for allowing England to get so worked up, so that he had knots that were probably the size of golf balls in his shoulders and back. He was supposed to keep England loose and relaxed-_happy_-at all times. He bent over and kissed the top of England's head in apology and ran his knuckles down his lover's spine.

England had apparently abandoned all pretense of wanting America to stop, and he glanced up curiously when America kissed the top of his head. America smiled gently and momentarily slowed his ministrations.

"What's all this for, you git?" England asked, but there was no bite, just mirth, in his voice.

America bent forward to kiss England on the lips and was relieved when the older nation pressed back. He started the kneading back up when he pulled away and murmured against England's forehead, "just doing what I should have done from the start. Tell me what feels good, all right?"

England nodded and closed his eyes. They fell into a comfortable silence while America worked his thumbs against the kinks and knots in England's back. Occasionally England would interject a "there" or "that feels marvelous" or even a hiss of pain when America hit a particularly tense spot, and America would dutifully work to please England to the best of his ability. Eventually the knots were worked out, but America didn't stop the massage. Rather, he continued because it was obviously making England feel good, and it was the least he could do for not saving the day earlier.

It was becoming rather hard to stay on track, however. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to focus on the task at hand and not on how England was moaning and arching into his touch. Tossing his head back, exposing the oh so tempting flesh of his neck. Eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowed, mouth hanging open ever so slightly…

"_America_," England gasped in abject pleasure as America ran his hands down the older nation's back while applying the slightest pressure. _That_ was enough to break down what was left of America's willpower. He released his hold on England and hurriedly moved to stand in front of the chair instead of behind it. England's eyes opened and he was about to ask why America had stopped when the words were swallowed by America's mouth on his. England's eyes slid shut once more and they wrapped their arms around each other while they kissed deeply.

They broke away briefly, England's dark eyes telling America everything he needed to know, and then America easily swept England up into his arms and resumed kissing him as he made his way to the master bedroom on the second floor.

America laid England gently down on his bed and then crawled over him, attacking the neck that had been tempting him so earlier. England hummed his contentment and tangled his fingers in America's hair, tilting his head slightly so America had better access. America pulled away long enough to pull England's sweater vest over his head and practically tear off his own hoodie and t-shirt, taking more care to place Texas on the nightstand, then he moved back to kiss at England's neck once more. He pressed loving kisses steadily downwards from his neck to his collarbone and down his chest as he worked at the buttons on England's shirt. England swatted at him impatiently and in a few swift, impressive movements, undid the remaining buttons and pulled off his shirt, then made short work of his slacks and (Union Jack printed) underwear.

"Stop teasing, America," he panted and threw himself back into his pillows.

America smiled warmly and chuckled. "Aye aye, captain."

Although the movements weren't as fluid as England's, America managed to quickly remove his jeans and (Stars and Stripes printed) underwear, as well. He reached over into the top drawer of the nightstand, knowing that England always had a bottle of lube handy there. He poured a generous amount into his hands and rubbed it to warm it up before he pressed into England. Luckily the older nation was already languid and relaxed from the massage, so preparation was quick and America didn't have to wait long for the connection he'd been craving since their last parting.

He was careful to keep the love making about England the whole time; England's pleasure, what made England gasp and arch in bliss, touching and kissing where he knew it would drive England past the brink. He willed himself to deny his own climax until England had reached his, throwing his head back and not bothering to muffle his cry, then America followed and braced himself before he could crush England with his weight.

He kissed England's damp forehead as he pulled out, then fumbled for the discarded t-shirt on the floor to clean up the mess between them. He tossed it back on the floor when he was done and then eased himself next to England, pulling the nation into his arms and pressing tender kisses to his lips.

"Feel better?" he asked and brushed his nose against England's.

"Mm," England hummed and tangled their limbs together. "Now just shut up and cuddle me, you git."

America rolled his eyes, thankful that England couldn't see the gesture, but agreed that it was the best course of action. There he could run his hands up and down England's spine once more, this time in a soothing manner, until the older nation fell into a contented, and most importantly _relaxed_ sleep in his arms.


End file.
